


Hypothesis

by 4RU



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4RU/pseuds/4RU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you going to do, Izaya? If your theory is proven false?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> Contains novel and anime spoilers.

The question comes from, seemingly, nowhere.

“What are you going to do, Izaya? If your theory is proven false?”

Shinra chances a glance in his direction, the intelligence in his eyes hidden so naturally behind a carefree smile. It gets the informant’s attention enough that he looks up from the luminescent screen of the computer, watching as Shinra casually strolls to the bookshelf, as he peers at the numerous titles and collections of files with all the curiosity of a young child instead of the twenty-something year old doctor he actually is. Several moments, it takes for Izaya to uncoil and stretch in place, a smirk tugging at his lips, appreciative.

“And what is your hypothesis, dear doctor?”

The question is both an invitation and taunt, and Shinra’s brows raise over the rims of his glasses, acknowledging the challenge. Conversation will get nowhere if he responds with yet another question, so he doesn’t. He offers a sly smile, fingertips brushing along the spine of some philosophical text.

“I hypothesize that Izaya has taken a little too many hits to the head,” and that is enough for Izaya to double over in laughter. Not that it takes much to get Izaya into laughing fits, but Shinra’s audacity is possibly the easiest trigger for it.

It tapers off as a book falls from the shelf, and like a steady cascade, the conversation grows silent as several more follow. They fall to Shinra’s feet, pages crumpling upon impact, philosophy and mythology alike. Without the obstructions, Celty’s face is in view, serene enough as if the head was merely sleeping instead of patiently waiting for an event that might not come to pass. But her eyes are open, barely enough to even be noticeable, green against ginger lashes, peering down at the man before her as if aware of his presence.

Izaya watches, perceptive as ever, leaning back and once more feigning an easygoing attitude. “And what makes you say that?”

But when Shinra peers at his friend from over his shoulder, his smile and carefree manner is gone, replaced by neutral defiance, serious and almost bored. That rare spark of solemnity. “You’re holding back, Izaya.”

All pretenses vanish the moment the accusation is uttered, and the silence that falls upon them is almost deafening. Neither look away, gauging and staring at the other like wild dogs encountering for the first time. And then, there’s movement. Izaya lurches forward in a single bound, maneuvering over the desk so quickly, the weapon draws; and had Shinra not taking the initiative to lift his head and take half a step back, the blade would have penetrated his neck instead of coming to rest against his skin.

“Go ahead,” Shinra dares, the tip of the flickblade resting precariously over his carotid artery, a smile pulling at his lips. And for a moment, Izaya chances a look up at the bookshelf, at the exposed container, at Celty’s half-lidded eyes. Salvation was so close. Not even an inch beneath the doctor’s skin, pulsing and there. All he had to do was dig the blade in just a little more…

“You can’t. That’s why you’re orchestrating all these little schemes. Izaya can’t kill me.”

And it’s frustrating, knowing Shinra was right, knowing the bastard could read him so easily even after all these years. As he pulls away and shoves the weapon back into his pocket, it’s more frustrating seeing the dullahan’s eyes drift shut once again.

“But my question is, when you’re at the very peek of success, when you are but moments away from possibly triggering Ragnarok – can you really do it, Izaya?”

The question hangs, even after the books have been carefully arranged back in their places and Shinra has long since left. Izaya stares at the chatroom for almost an hour, watching the cheerful conversations between the participants with mild interest. It isn’t until a series of private messages find their way onto the popup window that he stirs, eyeing the sender and chuckling under his breath and uncoiling at last, fingers poised over the keyboard as he began his response.

Indoor Scholar knew him almost as well as Shinra, it seemed.


End file.
